


Rangers Who War

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody's ticklish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rangers Who War

**Author's Note:**

> The POV flip flops back and forth every section, which I tried to make pretty clear but I figure I'd throw this out there to avoid any confusion.

She finds out by accident.

Sort of.

They've just finished sparring and Raleigh is complaining about a twinge of pain in his calf. He has both of his pant legs rolled up above his knees (Mako isn't going to ask why he needs _both_ of them rolled up), and is waddling over to a bench to get an ace bandage. Mako watches him walk away, bo staff in hand, and gets the strangest urge.

Raleigh stands in front of the bench with his back to Mako as he unravels the bandage, leaving himself open to an attack. Mako takes the opportunity to strike.

She creeps up slowly, feet bare and silent, and runs the tip of the staff up a well muscled calf. The response comes immediately; Raleigh breathes out a high laugh and does a sort of shimmy before hoping away in defense.

“What was that about?” he cranes his head back around to grin at Mako. Her answer is a look of unbridled mischief. Raleigh spins around and sits on the bench with Mako in his line of vision and starts rubbing his calf. “You already kicked my ass, you don't have anything else to prove.”

That gets a smile out of Mako. She slowly starts to move around to the other side of the bench, staff in hand, and Raleigh tenses where he sits. “I have a theory.”

Raleigh laughs a bit nervously. He starts to wrap the ace bandage around his calf, but keeps one eye on Mako. “A theory, huh?”

“Yes,” she says, _purrs_ , and leans on the wall behind Raleigh with the staff at her side.

“What kind of theo – ahh, haaah – ” Mako runs the staff from the hem of his pants upwards, pushing his tank top up and getting a shiver and shrill giggle out of him. Raleigh tumbles forward onto the mat in an escape attempt, but Mako lunges smoothly after him. 

He winds up on his back with his knees bent close to his chest and his arms curled tightly at his side. The staff is inches away from his nose, and he looks more like a distressed overturned turtle than a ranger. Mako smiles and slowly drags the staff down his chest. 

And he has to fight against a giggle.

“I knew it!” Mako springs back in victory and Raleigh lets out the breath he was holding. “You are ticklish.”

“Am not,” Raleigh tells the ceiling.  
  
“Are too,” Mako tells the staff in her hand just before dropping it next to Raleigh and sitting down on the vacant bench. She pats her lap and Raleigh doesn't even look up before lifting his sore leg and letting Mako massage the ache out.

“Don't tell anybody?” Raleigh asks.

Mako starts wrapping the ace bandage around his ankle. “Don't worry,” she says, “I want this to be my own secret weapon.” 

“Oh _great_ ,” Raleigh huffs out through a grin. “The last thing I need is to go to war against you.”

She holds onto his ankle a fraction longer than she needs to. Raleigh gives her a questioning look from his spot on the floor and only realizes what her intentions are half a second before she's running her index finger along the sensitive bottom of his foot.

“ _Mako!_ ”

He jerks away sharply, but he can't bring himself to be angry with that smile.

 

_-_

 

A while after that, Raleigh makes sure to keep a keen eye on Mako. 

He's not paranoid, honestly.

It's just that Mako can be so _sneaky_. She moves across the ground with the grace and silence of a ghost.  Her eyes catch everything, every strength and every weakness.  She knows just where to strike if she wants to inflict some lasting damage, where to land her blows to take her opponent out.  Her determination is nearly limitless, and when she wants to do something, she gets it done.

But she hasn't actually _done_ anything yet.

At this point, Raleigh wishes she would just jump him. Tightening up his core in preparation every time she walks by only to be met with a pat on the arm instead of wiggling fingers is giving his nerves a serious case of metaphorical blue balls. The worst part? She  _knows_  what she's doing. She's got to. Drifting aside, Raleigh isn't exactly subtle about tensing up every time she gets close with that spark in her eye. On a good day, Mako will shoot him a sly look. Usually she just pretends to be oblivious.  

A man can only take so much psychological torture before retaliating. Raleigh gets it in his head that Mako must be ticklish, because _everybody_ is ticklish to some extent. So one day, when Mako is preoccupied with something at her desk, he decides to plan an attack. 

Slipping his boots off, he creeps into her room through the open door, tiptoeing up behind her. As quietly has he can manage, he lowers his hands to her sides and holds his breath. Then he strikes, surging forward with wiggling fingers and the intent to catch her off guard –

“I'm not ticklish, you know,” she deadpans. He only gets as far as brushing his fingertips against her uniform blouse before her hands are on his wrists, holding them in place.

“Oh, come on!” Raleigh jerks backs and puts his hands on his hips. “At least let me _try_. I didn't even touch you.” 

“Please,” Mako turns to face him, “If there is anybody who cannot sneak up on me, it is you. I recognized your breathing from across the room.”

Raleigh's mouth screws up in a bashful grin as he looks to the ground. He can hear the smile in Mako's voice as she says, “But it was an honorable effort.”

He shuffles over with his head cast down like an ashamed puppy. When he leans on the edge of the desk, he looks down at Mako with his best _love me_ eyes and his best _give me another chance_ smile. Then something catches his eye.

“Hey, I recognize. . .” his smile falls, “Them.” 

On the desk is what looks like a candid photograph of Stacker grinning like Raleigh's never seen him grin. On his back is a smiling girl who can't be more than thirteen. _Mako_. Raleigh suddenly feels like he's walked in on something private.

“Shit, I'm sorry, I'll go –”

“No!” Mako grabs his wrist again, only this time she looks serious instead of playful. “It is okay. I was just thinking about him.  I would not mind you joining me.”

Raleigh relaxes into the desk again. They both fall quiet and cast their eyes down. It's almost awkward. Raleigh wonders if maybe he should say something about Yancy, but he doesn't want to make this about him. 

Mako glances up and caches his eye. She asks softly, “Do you want to know a secret, Mr. Becket?”

Raleigh looks down into those serious eyes and nods his head. Mako beckons him forward until he's leaning over her body and her mouth is at his ear. 

“He was ticklish as well,” Mako whispers, and Raleigh hardly has time to process that before her fingers are skirting under his shirt and dancing along his sides.

 

_-_

 

A dry twinge in her chest wakes her up and catapults her into a coughing fit. There's an uneasy buzz under her skin, like she just resurfaced from a nightmare that she doesn't remember having. Bleary-eyed and sleep-slow, she gets to her feet and meanders to the bathroom. A handful of tap water later and her bones still feel like they're shaking. 

It only takes a few minutes for her to slide into alertness after that. She wanders out into the corridor and takes in the stillness with unease. The Shatterdome is still occupied by research teams, mechanics, and military personnel, but there's a certain emptiness to it now that the thought of impending death isn't hanging on everybody's shadows. Mako almost misses it, the buzzing activity at all hours of the day, the hectic nature of the world.

She never thought she'd be nostalgic for a time when Hell was just over the horizon, but it's all she ever knew. All Raleigh ever knew.

She's still standing there in front of her closed door when she catches herself staring at Raleigh's peephole. She considers it for about four seconds before she's striding across the hall and checking his door, _unlocked,_ and going in.  In her head, she reminds herself to speak to that boy about following proper residential safety protocol. As if she didn't know that Raleigh leaves his door unlocked every night in a silent invitation.  

Once inside, it hits her that maybe she should turn back, stop violating Raleigh's privacy like this. But the tension in her bones tightens into a cramp that spurs her forward until she's standing at Raleigh's bedside. He's coiled tightly around a pillow, and the blanket seems to have gotten wrapped around his legs somehow like it's trying to keep him in place. Every once in a while, his breath hitches audibly and his entire frame rocks forward in an aggravated twitch.

Mako watches his fingers curl around the pillow, knuckles bulging angrily under the skin, and sighs. Nightmares.

“Raleigh,” she whispers, and sits cross legged on his bed. She reaches out squeezes his shoulder firmly, dragging him out of the nightmare and into a short gasp that turns into a coughing fit. He gropes around for her hand and holds on tightly as he coughs weakly into the pillow.

“What time is it?” he mutters once the spasms die down. His voice sounds like bent metal and thunderstorms.

“It doesn't matter,” Mako gives his hand a little tug, “Come here.”

Raleigh moves with a sort of natural ease, like he's the swell of the ocean and Mako is the full moon. They shift around until Mako has her back against the wall and Raleigh has contorted himself so he's curled up in front of her with his head in her lap and his face on her thigh. 

“Your brother?” Mako eventually asks, her fingers carding through his short hair.

Raleigh clears his throat. “No, um, well. . . Yeah. But Stacker, too. Marshall Pentecost.”

There's silence for a minute. Mako isn't sure what to say, isn't sure that she needs to say anything at all. Her thumb is rubbing slow circles in the sweat-chilled hairs at his temple in an attempt to sooth him to sleep. Raleigh clears his throat again and adds, “You, too. You were, uhm. Gone. Like them.”

Mako's thumb stops. “I am not going _anywhere_.”

Raleigh breathes out a tired laugh. “I'd like to see someone _try_ to make you go anywhere.” 

She smiles, and even though she knows he can't see it, it's enough. He shifts so he can curl closer and throw an arm across her hip. It's a sleep-drunk attempt at a hug, and Mako savors the warmth. Without thinking, she puts her free hand on his arm and just drags her fingernails lightly across the bare skin. The hairs on his arm prickle and stand at attention as Raleigh wiggles a little restlessly.

“It's just – It tickles,” he says. Mako flattens her hand out as he says, “You don't have to stop.”

So she doesn't.

Mako doesn't know how much time she spends sitting there, just running her fingernails along his arm. At one point, she notices that Raleigh's breathing has evened out into a comfortable rhythm. He doesn't twitch or whimper or huff or groan, and Mako finds that her own bones have calmed down as well.

Before long, Mako nods off, and their breathing falls into near perfect synch.

In the morning, they're both sore. Raleigh bellyaches about neck pains until he notices Mako stretching her lower back and grimacing. Then Raleigh is flat out fussing, throwing out _I'm sorries_ and trying to coerce Mako into lying down. There's an offer for a massage that would make Mako blush if Raleigh wasn't as earnest as a sunday pastor. 

His flailing is cut short when Mako grabs his hands to keep him still. Raleigh looks down at where their hands are joined with a half smile on his face. Mako feels the muttered _thank you_ more than she hears it. It's in her head, in her bones; it reverberates through her veins as naturally as the blood pumping in and out of her heart.

Mako says _you're welcome_ with two blinks and a subtle twist of her lips, and Raleigh understands.

A few days later, they find themselves pouring over a stack of documents regarding the future of the Jeager program. There's no more fighting to be done, at least not with aliens hell bent on destruction, but the documents outline some remarkably vague plans that require two able-bodied pilots. 

Raleigh is openly relieved he wont be heading back to the states for another shitty job in construction. Mako is silently relieved she won't have to leave Raleigh and the drift behind just yet.

They sit on Raleigh's bed and try to make sense of what they're reading, grimacing every time the phrase “kaiju gene splicing” shows up. Raleigh starts yawning at one point, which makes Mako yawn, which just makes Raleigh yawn _more_.

Mako's concentration finally breaks when Raleigh slumps heavily against her side. He's been holding the same sheet of paper for fifteen minutes, though a glance down at his bowed head is enough to tell he's given up on reading. Mako decides then and there that she's not going to sleep another night sitting upright with a grown man draped over her. 

She gets up and Raleigh slumps over sideways onto the bed without even opening his eyes. It takes some dragging and pulling his body like an oversized toddler, but Mako eventually gets Raleigh into a position that isn't begging for early morning back pain, and lies next to him. 

Mako can't help but run her fingernails along Raleigh's skin again, pulling low murmurs from his throat. 

“Don't think I don't know your game, Mori,” he warns. “You think you can get away with sneaking in these bedtime tickles, huh? Well we're still at war, you and I.”

“A war you are losing,” Mako teases, and drags Raleigh in close.

They sleep wrapped up in each other like they're yearning for the drift, for another chance to be whole again. But it's not drifting, not even close, and when Raleigh noses up the column of her neck to meet the blue of her hair, something inside Mako aches. She forces it away, though, and lets Raleigh's weight along her side sooth her to sleep.

Deep in a dream, she's hugging Yancy. He takes her head in his hands, smiles at her like she's the sun, and kisses her forehead.

When she wakes up, Raleigh does the same thing.

 

- 

 

There comes a time in a man's life where he has to hang it up and admit defeat. When, after exhausting each of his ideas and failing every attempt at reaching his goal, he has to step down and accept one of the universally known truths of the universe: Mako Mori is not ticklish. 

“ _Son of a –_ ”

It's half past eight in the morning. Raleigh is sitting in the mess hall, eyes dull and mouth slightly agape as he watches Mako giggle softly. She's laughing at something one of the mechanics said. It's a small giggle, but it's bigger than anything Raleigh could coax out of her.

Going for her tummy just got him an unimpressed glance. Running his fingers along her sides wasn't even worthy of a reaction. Raleigh had to plan his attack on her feet, but she didn't so much as twitch. _Everybody's_ feet are ticklish.

Except Mako Mori's.

Raleigh sighs, and his shitty Shatterdome orange juice doesn't even ripple under the force. He's on the brink of giving up and walking over to Mako, bowing curtly and admitting that he has fought a losing battle. Before he can get up, Tendo straddles the bench beside him and throws a tray of food down.

“What's the matter with you, Becket Boy?” he mutters, sounding even less awake than Raleigh. “You look like someone pissed in your morning coffee.”

“Orange juice,” Raleigh grunts out with his lips at the rim of his cup. The liquid doesn't move. This is a bad morning for war.

Tendo snorts and sluggishly butters his toast. “Well excuse me, princess.”

Raleigh pulls his eyes away from Mako and lets them rest on Tendo. “Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it doesn't require higher brain functions to answer, I'm all yours.”

“How do you tickle someone who isn't ticklish?” Raleigh asks.

“Mmm,” Tendo mutters thoughtfully through a mouthful of toast, “Okay, that's a hard one. But I used to do this thing to Allison where I would sneak up behind her and sort of, you know, poke her sides. Set her off _every time_. Isn't exactly _tickling_ , but you know. The intent is there.”

A contemplative silence comes and goes. “That's genius,” Raleigh mumbles, and did his orange juice just respond?

“Yeah,” Tendo wipes the crumbs off his hands and starts on the second slice of toast, “Just don't do it to random girls, Becket. That'd be. . . Pretty weird. You don't want to be _that_ guy.”

“Yeah, no,” Raleigh waves aimlessly in Tendo's direction, “No, it's okay. I'm at war.”

“You're. . . What?” Tendo turns to look at Raleigh, but he's up on his feet before offering any kind of explanation. Raleigh lumbers up behind Mako, all stone-faced and determined, and jabs the flesh of her sides before she can turn around to face him. Her yelp echoes through the mess hall, and Raleigh just _has_ to smile wide with triumph.

There is silence, and then shouting. “Raleigh Becket, you _cheater_!”

Raleigh knows when to fight and when to flee, and all of his instincts are screaming _flee_. So he takes off, bounding down out of the mess hall with Mako striding quickly after him. The shatterdome's near-emptiness becomes a blessing as they chase each other through narrow corridors. Their whoops and shouts echo harshly off the unfriendly metal that they've called home.

Finally, Mako gets an arm around Raleigh's stomach and drags him up against a wall. It takes them a minute to catch their breath, and Mako makes sure to box Raleigh into a corner like she's afraid he's going to bolt once he's got the energy.

“I knew you were ticklish,” he pants out eventually.

“Not ticklish,” Mako insists, holding Raleigh's wrists tightly against the wall, “Just surprised. Anybody would scream if you grabbed them from behind.”

“I don't know why I didn't think of that sooner,” Raleigh beams, “You can get just about anybody with a stomach poke –”

Mako grabs his face and tugs Raleigh down so they're eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. The kiss is quick and a little off center. It doesn't feel like an epiphany, not like some kind of huge revelation or a massive discharge of tension, but it feels comfortable and right. Like drifting with Yancy after the first few rough times; like she's known him for years, and they've kissed each other ever morning.

When they pull apart, there is one beat, two beats, three beats of heavy silence before they both crack up. And just like that, they're clinging to each other, Mako gasping for air against Raleigh's ugly PPDC issued sweater and Raleigh cackling into Mako's soft hair. Their laughter softens the cold grey interior and rings through the hallways like the ghost of a world before the kaiju, like the spirit reborn into a body that isn't covered in blue and red blood stains. 

Not a bad morning for war after all.


End file.
